Expectations
by Jorjo Danson
Summary: Before The Battleborn all five factions stood together, but never united. Now that there's no other choice they'll have to learn to live side by side. Everyone has expectations about the other factions, their fellow Battleborn or even about themselves. Some may be wrong, others might be spot on, but there's only one star left. And everybody's got to share


_Verod Rath is Always Angry_

Deande awoke, for perhaps the first time in months, on her own. She wondered how such a thing could have happened for only a moment before her tired mind decided it didn't care.

For a time after Rendains Betrayal she had tried to stand by him. She had tried, desperately, to see his reason and follow her "Lord Commander". She had fed Rendain the weaknesses of the very same people they once fought beside, she had hunted, tortured and killed the good men and women of the factions. All of this she had done out of trust in his leadership, his judgment, his loyalty to Empress Lenore.

When Penarch was darkened all of that trust disappeared.

When he killed Empress Lenore it turned to hate.

From then on she had worked behind his back to undo everything they had worked towards, for every moment she spent serving the Imperium there were two she spent fighting it. Hours meant for sleep were spent plotting, time meant for rest was used to misdirect and deceive. When she did sleep it was for an hour, perhaps two at a time before Rendain would call for her or a spy sent in a report. For the past months she had run a constant gauntlet and if by chance she had a moment of rest she would take it. Part of her was tempted to rise and begin her day despite it all but she knew the Heliophage was days away from ready to darken Solus, her plans to sabotage it were laid and she had only to wait. She could rest, she would rest. She sighed and rolled onto her back, glad to let the sheets of silk pull her back into the dark. When those silks dragged across her skin in a course and itchy wave she started, sitting upright and snapping her attention to room around her.

This was not her bed. She was not on Tempest. She remembered everything at once. She had done it, she had turned her back on what was left of the Empire and sided with Ghalt, with the Battleborn.

She was the traitor now.

She saw flashes of their assault on the Heliophage, the Battleborn sailing into the heart of Tempest in a gloriously foolish wave that tore strait to the Universe most twisted weapon and crippled it. Raths mighty blade defending her from a sentry's assault, Rendains condescendingly disappointed tone and Mellkas hateful face stood out from the blur her memories had already become.

Deande shook away the shock of everything she had done and looked around the room she would be calling home from then on. When she had told Ghalt all that she could he had personally escorted her here before she unceremoniously collapsed onto the bed and let her building exhaustion take hold. Her eyes fell on the clock at her bedside and was surprised to see she had been out for nearly 7 hours, more rest than she would normally have allowed even before Rendains betrayal. Soon she turned her attention to herself and sneered in disgust. In her sleepy haze she had barely removed her gown, it was thrown harshly over the back of a nearby chair and the rest of her clothes had stayed on her through the night, even her boots. She stood, stretching and groaning before trying the smooth the sea of wrinkles from the front of her undershirt. It was a wondrous blend of cloth that smoothed into its old sleek self soon enough, but the tougher lining of her leggings would remain unkempt for some hours. Wandering across her new chambers into the bathroom she was appalled to see her hair smashed into a nest of curls and frayed layers. She busied herself with sweeping it back into her normal shape as she turned to the open door and took in her surroundings. It was a small and barren room, empty aside from a bed, desk and a simple storage case near the door but even that left her little room to maneuver freely. The floor was flat, steely and looked cold enough that Deande was grateful she had slept in her shoes, the room itself looked much the same. A cold and harsh cube that chocked her with its oppressive simplicity. She was surprised to see an LLC ship look so unappealing and simple, but she assumed it was more that her room was the only one to be so….. unwelcoming. If Mellkas reaction was anything to go on her presence here was not a popular choice among the Batleborn, it wouldn't surprise her to see the rest of the ship was well furnished and comfortable, to see she had been stuffed in a broom closet somewhere as a reminder that she was not one of them. None of that mattered, even if everyone she shared this ship with hated her, they would need her.

And she would need them, if they wanted to stand a chance.

With her hair back in style and her clothes more or less dignified, she was prepared to begin her first day as the last line of defense for Solus. She sat back on the bed for a moment to meditate and compose herself when assassins hearing picked up the hiss of a door opening beyond her own. She double checked the clock to see that, despite her long rest, it was indeed far too early for most residence of the ship to begin their day. She guessed whoever rose at this hour did so to avoid company, but a spymistress must always be curious. In a flash she was at her door and peeping through the small, one way viewport it provided. She was surprised to see Verod Rath lazy walking his way past her, from a room diagonal to hers she noticed. Perhaps the few Jennerit Battleborn were quartered as a group? It would be logical to do so for all the factions, she thought to herself.

She wasn't sure why, but she wanted to speak with him. Perhaps as a fellow traitor to the Imperium she hoped to find some support? She dismissed that quickly, Rath being famously cold. She decided quickly that it would be best to at least greet him, and with a swipe of her hand the door slid open noisily.

If the sudden movement startled Rath he hid it well. She noticed only that he stood straighter as the door between them disappeared into the walls, his face remained neutral and his hands still at his sides.

"Good morning, Rath." She said with a subtly bowing her head and sweeping her eyes across his form.

Somehow she had only just noticed he was not wearing his amour, he remained hidden by a tight black bodysuit but the sheets of metal and waistcloths she knew him for were absent. He was notably slimmer without the bulk of his chest piece and pauldrons, his hair was cut short and lacked a defined style aside from the backwards sweep and dusting of gray she noticed with his lack of helmet.

For a moment he simply stare from the corner of his eye, not turning to meet her. After a quiet second he faced her and bowed from the waist, not particularly deep, but it was a respectful gesture she was puzzled to see from him.

"The same to you Deande." He said, his voice calm and deep in a way she had never heard from him

He gestured slightly to his left as he straightened again.

"Will you join me? I assume you are hungry."

Deande could barely hide her surprise, Rath had never been so calm and open in conversation. At least not with her, even long ago when they would meet in the courts of the Empire and converse as allies he had always been cold and short, even rude. She recovered quickly, and responded without missing a beat in their conversation.

"Of course, though I suppose you'll need to show me the way."

At that Rath turned and resumed his lazy pace toward the end of the hall their rooms occupied. Deande fell in line behind him and began committing the path he walked to memory. He took turn upon turn with familiarity and purpose despite his easy pace and before long they came to an open room packed end to end with tables, all of them attached to benches on either side and bolted to the floor. She recognized it quickly as a mess hall, one meant for soldiers to gather and converse. Now it was empty save for the two of them and a woman Deande recognized as the leader of the Detrius rouges, Reyna Valeria. She was occupied with several datapads and nursing a cup of coffee that held her attention at the moment. As if she felt Deandes eyes Reyna snapped her head away from the drink, her single eye falling on Deande with no small amount of suspicion. While she obviously didn't trust the spymistress, Deande was glad to see no open hostility in her steady gaze, more of a wary curiosity. Reynas eye turned to Rath and the two shared a nod before she turned back to her business. Apparently she was the odd one out here, Deande thought.

As they neared the dispensary she wondered why Rath had risen so early, why he had offered to break bread with her. Mostly she wondered how little about Rath she really knew. They soon stood at the display and Rath signed, rolling his shoulders.

"What do you prefer?" He asked gesturing to the screen.

The numerous options all seemed equally appealing, her hunger replacing any bias she would normally have.

"I have no real preference, whatever you would like I suppose."

"Hm. Very well." With that he tapped a few of the on screen options and stepped aside to take the two trays of food dispensed a moment later. He offered one to Deande and she was surprised to see it was a simple plate of steamed vegetables and a few unassuming eggs. She accepted the tray but was unable to hide her confusion. Rath raised a questioning brow at her face.

"I just assumed you would have preferred something a bit, well….bloodier." she chimed gracelessly.

Rath responded with a tired and humorless chuckle.

"Most people do."

With that he led them to a table only a few lengths away from thier only company. The two of them seemed to be acquainted, but not friendly. Rath sat in the middle of the side opposite their approach and waited for her to do the same before he began his meal. As Deande ate she subtly watched Rath do the same. He was methodical and quick, stabbing vegetables with his fork and smoothly biting them off in a precise and polite motion or cutting his eggs into easily handled pieces before partaking. He ate like he was dining with the Empress, all court etiquette and regal posture. Deande found she cared very little about appearances and tore into her food. She was no savage, stuffing morsel after morsel into her mouth and spilling half of it as she chewed, but across from Rath she felt like one. A she finished she saw Rath was not terribly far behind her and decided now would be as good a time as any to spark a real conversation with the man she apparently hadn't known as well as she thought.

"Rath?"

"Hm?"

"I-Thank you." She said, not sure how else to put it.

Rath again raised his brow.

"For?" His response was short but not angry, in fact he seemed legitimately confused.

"During the assault, that sentry. You saved me."

Rath stared at her blankly for a moment before turning back to his food.

"Do not bother thanking me" He said between bites.

"If the time comes you will do the same, and if I must-"he stopped and turned his attention back to her.

"I will do so again. As will anyone else on this ship."

Deande knew he was referring Mellka, and assumed he was making that claim of her as well.

They were in this together after all.

She smiled at him then, he didn't return the gesture but she could feel the tension of his silence fade away. It was a friendlier quiet now. They talked for a while longer, of Ghalt and his work, of the other Battleborn. It was nice, Deande realized, to speak to Rath as just Rath, not the Keeper of the Blade. The more she thought about it, the more she liked speaking as Deande and not the Jennerit Spymistress. Their conversation was interrupted not long after by Ghalt as he stormed into the mess hall, calling for Reyna and herself.

"You two let's go! Rendains got something cookin' on Bliss and we've got work to do."

Reyna was on her feet and out the door behind Ghalt before the Captain had finished his call. Deande stood and turned to Rath, ready to bid him farewell, when she had to pause at his face. At The Betrayers name Rath had changed, his features were stone and his eyes cold.

"I will fetch my armor." He said standing and turning back the way they had come. The words dripped with his old anger and Deande realized why he had seemed so different to her this mourning. In the few moments Rath could almost forget what the Betrayer had done, what Rath had done for him. He was a different man. But those moments were rare now and hate was what fueled Rath.

Deande turned to follow Ghalt and made a new resolution.

She would see Rendain pay for what he had done to Empress Lenore, to the people of the universe.

And to Rath.


End file.
